


right here, with you

by impossiblepluto



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Parental Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), platonic kiss, spy siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29361492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto
Summary: "if the world stops turning, I'll be right here, with you."One (of two) written for the tumblr drabble prompt: "kiss"
Comments: 20
Kudos: 34





	right here, with you

**Author's Note:**

> There was a drabble prompt list circulating on tumblr about a week ago. I wasn't planning on using it, but an anonymous friend requested "kiss" and I almost never refuse requests. This one is platonic. 
> 
> (In case you've ever sent a request and are wondering, I've got about 20 in my askbox at the moment, with plans for all of them.)
> 
> Title and summary come from the song "Right Here, With You" by David Cook.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read! I hope you enjoy it!

Brilliant sunset gives way to moonlight, bathing the room in a soft glow. The frantic rush of bodies in motion, gasping breaths, and tearing of clothes is replaced by a delicate hush, a peace waiting to be shattered. 

Mac stares at the warm hand engulfed in his, laying on the crisp white sheets. A symbol of trust. Commitment of which he doesn’t feel worthy. Loyalty he doesn’t deserve.

Shivers race up his spine. The room spins. His eyes slam shut. Prickling behind closed lids. Maybe when he opens them again, this will all be a dream. 

Pulse hammering in his ears. He forces his heaving chest to slow, matching the measured, whispered breaths that fill the room. 

Riley’s voice is soft as she calls his name. Tentatively reaching out, stroking a wisp of hair from his forehead. He wants to lean into her touch, accept the comfort, the love she’s extending, but he can’t. 

“Mac?” She tries again, voice filled with trepidation. She’s worried about him and she shouldn’t be. He’s fine. 

Opening his eyes, nothing has changed. The monitor next to the bed silently traces a heartbeat. Steady and strong. Mac takes comfort in that fact before he looks up, facing Riley perched on the armrest of his chair, her eyes are wet when he meets her gaze. 

“Come on, Mac. You need to get cleaned up now. Get checked out.” She places her hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m good,” his voice is hoarse as he lies. Scratchy from screams, from smoke. His eyes drift back to his hand, squeezing tight. Willing the flaccid fingers intertwined in his to react. Give him something. 

“Do you know how pissed he’d be if he knew you’ve been sitting here refusing care?”

Mac’s gaze traces up Jack’s arm, wrapped in loose gauze, hiding burns. Bruising floods from Jack’s back over his shoulder, the loose hospital gown pulled low revealing telemetry leads. 

He can only think of two, maybe three, other times in the last decade where he would describe Jack as pale. Skin taut and translucent under dark stubble. Oxygen tubing tucked under his nose. 

“Probably only about half as pissed as I am at him right now.” Mac is familiar with this brand of blackmail, has used it a time or two himself, but right now, he’s too angry for it to work. Too scared. 

_ Grunting in frustration under Jack’s weight across his shoulders as Mac carries him to safety. Hands lax in Mac’s grip around his wrists. Stubbornly ignoring the twinge of pain. Concentrating on each labored wheeze ghosting across his neck that reassures him Jack didn’t just make a sacrifice play. _

_ The warmth of Jack’s blood dripping down his back.  _

_ Shrugging off hands that tried pulling him away as he settled Jack on the gurney. Mac is fine. Jack’s not. And Mac isn’t leaving. _

_ Turning away from probing fingers and penlights. Yelling again because they aren’t listening, that he’s fine, don’t worry about him. Help Jack.  _

“He takes your safety pretty seriously.”

“That doesn’t give him the right to kill himself for me.” 

_ Jack’s hand tight around Mac’s bicep, throwing him out of harm’s way. Knees cracking against concrete. Shoving Mac to the floor, covering Mac’s body with his own for safety. Hands cradling Mac’s head for protection. A rush of heat singes the hair on his neck.  _

_ A grunt of pain in his ear, Mac feels the moment Jack goes limp on top of him. Smothered by the shelter Jack provides. _

“He’s not-” Riley gasps. “He’s going to be alright.”

Mac gives a single restrained nod. The scent of seared flesh burns in his nose, making his eyes water with its intensity. The leather jacket that should have offered protection, fused to Jack’s skin, as Jack protected Mac with no regard for his own safety.

The only thing Mac could do was pull him from the carnage and get him help.

Nothing Mac can do but sit at his side. Hold his hand until he wakes up and tell him he’s not alone.

“Yeah, he’s going to be alright,” Mac swallows and gives a stronger nod. Reaching up, he pats her hand that remains on his shoulder. “And I’m going to sit here with him until he wakes up.”

“Mac…”

“I am fine.” Mac shrugs under Riley’s wary gaze. Her eyebrow raised in doubt, which is fair. Mac knows he’s not always been the most forthcoming with his health, especially when he’s worried about something else. Someone else. 

“Honestly Riles, I wasn’t hit. I wasn’t burned. I’m not coughing.” A sad smile twitches before folding back into a worried frown. “Thanks to Jack.”

“And he wouldn’t let you get away with not getting checked out,” Riley challenges him. “Not after an explosion like that.” 

“Then he can wake up and tell me.” 

_ “Jack,” Mac squirmed under his weight. “Jack, can you hear me?” _

“I’m worried about you too, Mac. Please.” Riley implores. 

_ “Please Jack, be okay. Wake up and tell me you’re okay.” Mac begged as his fingers scrambled against Jack’s jaw, searching for a pulse.  _

“There’s a dinamap right there.” Mac sighs, giving in, understanding the desperate need for reassurance. Gesturing with his unoccupied hand to the freestanding vitals monitor that’s not attached to Jack, shoved into the corner of the room. 

Riley blinks in surprise at his acquiescence - it surprises him too, if he’s honest - then stands. Maintaining eye contact as she unplugs the machine and drags it closer, her jaw tightening, expecting Mac to refuse at any moment, but he offers her his arm.

She turns on the machine and wraps the cuff around Mac’s bicep, pressing the button and initiating the reading. 

“Finger,” she orders.

Mac doesn’t let go of Jack’s hand, but holds up his index finger and allows Riley to clip the pulse oximeter to it. 

“Here,” Riley says, holding out the thermometer probe.

“I don’t have a fever.”

“Thought you were going to cooperate.”

Mac raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth, positioning the probe under his tongue. 

The machine beeps. Riley tears loose the velcro freeing Mac’s arm. Mac pretends to ignore the numbers, focusing on Jack, but he reads the monitor out of the corner of his eye. A mixture of guilt and relief rushes through him. He is fine. Because of Jack.  


“You sure you’re not hurting anywhere?”

“I’d tell you, Riles.” 

She nods, not satisfied but knows it’s the only answer she’s going to get. “I’ll let Reese see these numbers,” Riley says, referring to one of the Phoenix nurses on duty.

Mac nods his consent. “If they want to take my vitals again or anything, I’ll let them. I’m not trying to be difficult, but I’m not leaving him. He never lets me wake up here alone. Not if he can help it.”

Riley gives a small nod. She’s observed Jack’s devotion in action. Digging in his heels and parking himself at Mac’s side.  _ “He knows he didn’t go under alone. I’m not letting him wake up that way.” _

“I’ll grab a change of clothes from your locker. Ask for some of those bath wipes for you to clean up with. You don’t have to leave,” Riley adds, stalling Mac’s protests. “But maybe you could look a little less like you should be in the bed next to him when Jack wakes up.”

“Thanks Riles,” he whispers, listening to her footsteps fade and the door click shut behind her. 

“I’m right here, big guy. I’m okay. Just waiting on you,” Mac squeezes the lax hand tighter. His chest shudders around a sob he refuses to let escape, eyes burning with unshed tears, blinking them back furiously. 

“You’re gonna be okay. You have to be,” Mac whispers, leaning forward. He closes his eyes and brushes a soft kiss against Jack’s temple.  **  
**


End file.
